


No taste like home

by neverendingdream



Category: Crazy Rich Asians (2018)
Genre: Araminta is the real mvp, Baking, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Colin is a little shit, F/M, Fluff, Is that a thing, Nick is a romantic bb, also, but trying to help his best bro, cakes, it's a thing now bc i apologize to all rachel lovers she doesn't appear until later in the fic, this is just an excuse for self-indulgent fluff tbh, uh Nick-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverendingdream/pseuds/neverendingdream
Summary: Nick decides to surprise Rachel on her birthday with something special and utterlySingaporean.It's going to take him some effort and a lot of help to plan it all out.





	No taste like home

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC IS DEDICATED TO THE LOVELY @leongastrids on tumblr go love her it's her birthday todayyyyyy
> 
>  
> 
> ~~the fluff machine is alive y'all~~

 

_“Hey, this is Colin Khoo. Please don’t ask about my engagement to Araminta. Otherwise, cool, leave a message after the tone.”_

 

“Colin, please pick up. It’s important.” Nick hung up for what felt like the millionth time in the past half hour, and sighed. Of all the times for his best friend to ignore him--!

Granted, it was one o'clock in the morning in Singapore, but Nick knew Colin well enough to know there was no way that Colin went to sleep before two am. At the earliest. Especially on a _Friday night_ . And, especially since he and Araminta had gotten _engaged_.

Besides, it, for a lack of a better word, was an _emergency._ Nick was, again, for lack of a better word, in a _crisis_ . Or, at the very least, it was _important_.

Because Rachel, insanely beautiful, intelligent, witty Rachel (who’d agreed to be his girlfriend only three months ago) had let slip that it was her _birthday_ next Friday. And she _never_ talked about when her birthday was. Every time he’d asked, she’d only waved his questions away, saying she didn’t treat it as anything special anymore, and it didn’t really matter. ( _Like hell it didn’t.)_ It had been chance, pure providence that he’d found out when it was: he’d dropped by her office to bring her a couple of bagels earlier that morning, and had walked in on the tail end of a phone conversation she had been having with her mother. He’d immediately walked back out, of course, to give the two of them privacy, but not before his ears had caught a very specific series of words. _‘Yes, Mom, my birthday’s next week,’_ to be precise.

And, also: _‘No, we don’t have anything special planned.’_

He was about to change that.

Guaranteed, of course, that Colin, _screw him_ , would pick up his phone. Sometime before Nick had to teach his next class.

Nick sighed again.

He’d asked Rachel about what he’d accidentally overheard the moment her phone call had ended, but she’d only accepted the bagels, and waved his questions off. Again. She’d apologized for not telling him earlier, and said she didn’t want to trouble him, that it wasn’t such a big deal. He’d smiled. Winked. Said that she wasn’t going to trouble him, he was going to trouble himself now that he knew. She’d smiled, and sighed, exasperated, telling him he didn’t have to.

But, if he was being honest with himself, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t make his _girlfriend’s_ birthday special, in some way or another.

Hence the calls to Colin, who was currently still not responding. Nick stared at his phone screen a moment longer, willing Colin’s spirit to appear before him and give him advice (no matter how dumb his best friend was, he and Araminta were _engaged_ . He had to know at least _something._ Though Nick wouldn’t be too surprised if he heard that Araminta was the one pulling all the weight in romantic gestures.)

Nick _would_ ask Sylvia or her husband, Mark. But, and it was a little selfish, he wanted to surprise Rachel with something utterly, he didn’t know, _Singaporean_. To give her a little taste of his home (quite literally) when she and her mother had shown him so much of theirs.

In other words, he wanted to make Rachel pandan cake. Among other things. And Colin was his chosen taste-tester. Or at least he would be, _once he picked up his damn phone_.

It made sense for Nick to choose him. After all, Colin had been the one responsible for Nick acquiring baking skills. Somewhat.

Meaning Nick had lost a bet. A long time ago. Such bet may or may not have been comprised of stealing a piece of freshly baked pandan cake* from his Ah Ma’s kitchen, and Nick may or may not have been caught (and scolded) by his Ah Ma herself.

Regardless, Nick knew how to bake. And to cook, but he enjoyed baking more. He enjoyed baking a lot, in fact, and to this day claimed that he only lost the bet because he wanted to learn how to bake. His claim was hotly disputed by Colin, who had managed to successfully steal a piece of cake, and would never let Nick live it down. (“It’s your own Ah Ma’s house!” Colin would say gleefully. “How do you get caught in your _own_ Ah Ma’s house?”)

Though, of course, Colin supported Nick’s baking endeavors. After all, he _was_ the one who benefited the most by being the first person to taste all of Nick’s creations. Luckily for him, Nick was skilled, having a natural knack for baking, and having been taught by not only his nanny, but his mother herself, when she caught him nearly burning the house down one evening.

And his mother had surprisingly proven to be a greater help than Colin himself this morning. Before attempting to call Colin, Nick had called and woken a very tired-sounding Eleanor, who, in the morning, probably wouldn’t register the fact that her son had called in the middle of the night to ask for her prized pandan cake recipe. So he’d gotten the recipe with little questions. All he needed now was--

Nick’s phone vibrated.

_Incoming call: Colin Khoo._

He grinned.

“About time.”

A few seconds later, he was greeted by a long stream of curse words in a variety of languages, ranging from Malay to Cantonese to French.

“Nice to hear from you too, buddy,” Nick said cheerfully when Colin paused to take a breath.

“Are you bloody _insane_?” Colin asked. “I love you, too, Nick, but are you aware it’s fucking one-thirty am here?”

Another pause, this time on Nick’s end.

“This better be _actually_ important,” Colin said before Nick could respond.

Nick paused again. Now that he had actually managed to _reach_ Colin, and gained the knowledge that his friend was not in the _best_ of moods, what was the proper way to convince his friend to take a twelve-hour plus flight to New York? And in the next few days?

“Colin,” he said after a moment of careful thought. “You love Araminta, don’t you?”

There was an audible snort.

“I’m hanging up,” said Colin.

“No, no, no, _wait_ ,” Nick said quickly. “I’m serious. This is an important question.”

“Says the man who didn’t think it was _important_ enough to come back to little old Singapore for our engagement party.”

“You,” Nick replied, “are in _quite_ the mood, aren’t you? Are you drunk? Actually, don’t answer that, you won’t be truthful either way. Just answer my first question.”

He could practically _hear_ Colin grin on the other end.

“I,” Colin began dramatically, “am blindingly, _devastatingly_ in love with Araminta Lee. If she were to die, I would throw myself in the ocean after shaving my head bald and burning our house down.”

_“Good!”_ Came another voice-- Araminta, sounding as tired and exasperated as Colin had. _“Now go to sleep, you fucking romantic, it’s one in the morning and I have the headache of a lifetime.”_

It was Nick’s turn to snort.

“Hello, Araminta!” He called, heedless of Colin’s eardrums. Colin swore again. Loudly.

_“I don’t even know what the hell you two boys are talking about, but call back later, Nicky.”_

“Yes, _please,_ ” Colin chimed in.

Nick sighed. He felt like he’d been doing an awful lot of sighing, courtesy of Colin, of course. But he couldn’t just hang up _now_ , not when he’d _finally_ gotten ahold of his friend.

“Colin,” he said, and Colin made a noise that sounded suspiciously like _‘shutthefuckupplease’_ , “if you don’t listen to me now, I’ll tell Araminta all your most embarrassing stories. Starting with you, age twelve, and that terrible, _terrible_ banana tree**--”

“No, no, _wait_ , one moment, Minty, this is really urgent, sorry, I’ll go talk in the hallway.”

There were scuffling noises, the phone jostling against a lot of things, footsteps, and finally, the door closed quietly.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell Araminta about that!”

“Ah, you’re back,” Nick replied, grinning to himself. He knew it’d work.

“Bloody hell, man,” Colin continued, ignoring Nick’s smug tone, “this really better be _very_ important.”

“Of course it is,” Nick said, taking a deep breath. “Now, I know this is going to sound sudden, but how would you like to take a trip to New York to eat some pandan cake made by yours truly?”

A long silence.

“You’re going to start over,” Colin said slowly, “repeat yourself, and I am going to hear you correctly about a _real_ emergency you’re having and _not_ hear that you woke me up at this godforsaken hour to ask me to taste pandan cake. In New York.”

Nick hesitated.

“You heard right,” he said finally, dropping all of his playful manner. “Colin, I’m not kidding this time. This is really important to me.”

Colin laughed. Or he tried not to, but the sound that reached Nick was definitely laughter. Stifled, but unmistakably laughter.

“Who’s the special someone?” He asked once he’d caught his breath.

“There’s no one,” Nick said reflexively, fast enough that Colin knew he was lying.

Colin smirked.

“This is why you were asking me if I loved Minty earlier, isn’t it?”

“Shut up--” Nick began, but Colin wasn’t finished.

“Maybe I will go fly down to New York,” he said, “maybe I’ll find this _someone_ of yours-- they’re a girl, aren’t they? I bet she’s a professor, too. But, I’ll find her, and for every embarrassing story you tell Minty about me, I’ll tell _ten_ to her, and _you_ know I have many more to tell than you, and you’ll regret ever calling me tonight and every time you ever tried to embarrass me when you knew I had a crush on Minty.”

Another long silence.

“Are you done?” Nick asked at last.

“I could go on,” Colin replied, still smirking, “but I’m done for now.”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Nick said hastily, “are you in?”

Colin scoffed.

“Of course I am.”

 

* * *

 

A few days later, to be precise, _that very Sunday_ , Colin Khoo was lounging on Nick’s favorite armchair, his feet up on Nick’s coffee table.

“Minty sends her regards!” He called in the general direction of the kitchen. “And asks for some cake, too.”

“Why didn’t she just come, too?” Nick grumbled back over the sound of clattering pots and pans. “Put a hold on your leash. And save me the trouble of making extra.”

“Are you kidding?” Colin said. “The reporters would be all over that.”

He held up his arms in front of him, miming paparazzi cameras.

“Khoo heir and betrothed escape frantic wedding plans for a steamy getaway in New York,” he recited, punctuating each word with a camera clicking gesture.

“But wait!” He grinned, sitting up and aiming his imaginary camera at the top of Nick’s head. “Their friend! Could it be-- _Nick Young?_ And… who’s the girl?”

Nick threw a spoon at him.

“Stop it, I’m trying to concentrate here,” he said. “Unlike a certain someone.”

Colin sighed and flopped back into his seat.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he said after a moment. “You can date whoever you want here, and the reporters won’t know a thing. _Hell_ , you can go around town without a single camera flashing in your face! And, because of that, your relationship is just, you know, more private. More intimate.”

He sighed again.

“I miss that, you know? At the beginning, Minty and I, we didn’t give a shit about who we were, what money we might have, _anything_ , really. It was just this, you know, this _click_ , this feeling that she’s the one, or, “ he snorted to himself, “it was just one really good kiss.”

Nick made a sound of assent from where he was measuring out a cup of sugar.

“I get it,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t know about all of _this_ \--” he gestured vaguely between the two of them with one hand, “-- she doesn’t know about my family or anything, and even if she knew, she wouldn’t care, she’s just _different_. She doesn’t expect me to be more than what I am.”

“You sound like a lucky man,” Colin said, leaning back in the armchair. “I mean, I am, too, but all the damn gossip columns are making Minty out to be some _gold-digger_ or something. And she grew up here, went to all the good schools, and everything, she’s just not as bloody _old money_ as we are, and I hate it. Wish I could run away like you, take Minty with me, conquer the world together or some shit like that.”

Nick smiled, raising a measuring glass full of coconut milk to his friend.

“I’ll drink to that. Empress Araminta and her loyal consort, Colin. Make sure to remember me when you’ve finished with your world domination.”

Colin snorted.

“If you actually manage to drink all of that in one gulp, I’ll be sure to remember you: Nick Young, not even forty and wants to get heart disease. Remind me again, what is your Oxford degree good for?”

“More than yours,” Nick replied, throwing another spoon at Colin.

 

* * *

 

Three hours, a spilled bag of sugar, and many thrown spoons later, Nick placed a single slice of cake in front of Colin’s prone body. His friend groaned, cracking open an eye.

“ _Finally_ , I’m starving.”

Before he could reach for the cake, Nick held up a warning hand.

“This is the first trial, alright? You have to tell me what’s good and bad about it, not just _eat_ it.”

“Got it, got it,” Colin said, going for the cake before Nick could say another word. He took a bite. Then another. Then another. Then the whole slice was gone.

Colin smirked, then mimed surprise.

“Nick, mate, my piece of cake seems to have disappeared before I could judge it properly. You don’t happen to have another, do you?”

Nick punched his shoulder.

“Do you know how much more cake you’re going to have to eat, you idiot?” He asked even as he brought Colin another slice. Colin ignored him, devouring the second piece in record speed.

Nick was about to punch him again, but Colin held up a hand, holding back laughter.

“I tasted it for real, this time. Don’t worry so much, master chef.”

“And?” Nick refrained from rolling his eyes. _It’s all for Rachel_ , he told himself.

“Too dry,” Colin responded promptly, proving his worth as a best friend, which Nick had, in the past few hours, considered revoking and giving completely to Mehmet. _Mehmet,_ he thought. He should’ve called Mehmet instead of Colin. Either way, it was too late. Unfortunately.

“Anything else?” He asked Colin, whose teasing grin had finally faded from his face. Colin frowned.

“Maybe a little too sweet, too?”

 

* * *

 

It _was_ too sweet. But then the next one was too crumbly, and not sweet enough. And the one after was too soggy, and frighteningly sweet. And the next had problems too, and the next, and the next, until--

“Here’s the next cake,” Nick announced to Colin’s foot, the only part of his friend’s body sticking out from under the massive quilt he had buried himself in.

The foot twitched.

“Go away,” said Colin, after another second.

“Just try it,” Nick wheedled, “I swear, if it’s good, this will be the last one.”

“You said that last time,” came Colin’s muffled voice. “I want to go home. No one ever told me how cold New York could get. Minty, please save me. I never want to even _think_ about eating pandan cake ever again.”

“Come _on_ ,” Nick pleaded. “For Rachel. Please?”

Colin’s head emerged from the quilt in a flash, his hair rumpled almost unrecognizably. Nick almost snorted at the sight, but Colin had zeroed in on his words.

“Rachel?” He asked, a devious glint in his eye. “Is that her name?”

“No,” said Nick, “it’s her bunny’s name. Now please shut up and eat this last piece of cake.”

“Tell me more,” Colin replied, taking the cake from Nick and cutting off a tiny corner. “For every detail you give about her, I’ll eat a bit of this slice.”

“I am not gossiping about my girlfriend just so you eat the cake,” Nick said, crossing his arms.

Colin waited, trying not to grin. After a second passed, Nick sighed. Try as he might, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to talk about his _amazing_ girlfriend.

“You better not tell anyone, but her name is Rachel,” he said, and Colin nodded, gesturing with his fork for him to go on, “and,” he sighed a little, “ _God_ , she’s just wonderful. She’s an economics professor, and I sat in on one of her game theory classes one time, tried to distract her, but _hell_ , I got sucked in and learned so much.”

He paused, a smile making its way across his face.

“She’s just-- _God_ , I can’t quite describe it.”

“You’re _in love_ ,” Colin replied around a mouthful of cake. “Trust me, I’m an expert. And,” he said, swallowing, “I believe this is the perfect pandan cake.”

“Really?” Nick asked, eyes alight.

“No,” Colin deadpanned, “I have no idea how this is different from the last five cakes you’ve given me. I lost my tastebuds somewhere around cake number three. I hope you realize what an unholy amount of cake you’ve given to me in the past fifteen hours, and reflect on what you’ve done.”

Nick threw another spoon at him, but before Colin could retaliate, Nick’s phone began to ring.

_Incoming call: Rachel ❤._

“Why the bloody hell is she saved as _‘Rachel’_ with a _heart,_ ” Colin demanded, “and _I_ , your best friend since forever am saved as _‘Colin Khoo’_ as if you don’t even know me? You even saved Araminta as _‘Minty’_ , don’t lie to me, _I know--”_

 

“Shh-!” Nick hushed him, took a deep breath, and answered the call.

 

* * *

 

“Nick, are you alright?” Rachel asked. “Sylvia reports she saw you carrying and I quote ‘twelve cartons of eggs and at least fifty cans of coconut milk’ back from the grocery store earlier today.”

“ _Rache_ ,” Nick responded in a fake admonishing tone, trying to ignore the smirk on Colin’s face, “are you having me followed by Sylvia?”

“Sylvia,” Colin said to the air, “that’s another name to remember.”

“No,” Rachel replied, but he could hear the laughter in her voice. “You better not be planning something extravagant for my birthday, alright?”

“That’s exactly what he’s doing,” Colin faux-whispered, and Nick elbowed him away from the phone.

“Of course not,” Nick said easily. “Just baking a little special something.”

“Hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced, but Nick knew she was probably secretly excited. Probably.

“Get some rest and don’t stress too much over it, okay?” She said at last, and something that had been tense in him ever since Colin had arrived relaxed.

“Okay,” he said, grinning to himself. “But you’re going to love it. I just know it.”

She made a non-committal noise, before laughing again.

“I swear, if you stay up late tonight and call in a sick day tomorrow just to prepare, I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t!” Colin called from where he was now once again safely wrapped in the quilt.

Rachel paused in the middle of saying goodbye.

“Was that another person I just heard?” She asked, but there was still amusement in her voice. “Don’t tell me you conscripted an army to help you.”

“Maybe,” Nick replied, before reassuring her once again that he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, and then finally letting her hang up.

“So,” said Colin once silence had filled the room, “are we finally done with the fucking cake?”

Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It all depends on whether you were lying or not when you said the last one was perfect,” he said. Colin rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine. It’s already ten. Let’s clean up and get some sleep. You have to teach tomorrow, don’t you?”

Nick nodded.

“It’ll all work out,” Colin said, closing his eyes. “Take your girlfriend’s advice and don’t worry so much.”

 

* * *

 

“Minty,” Colin said over the phone, once Nick was safely in bed and asleep. “Our Nicky has gone completely off his rocker.”

Araminta laughed.

“How much cake did he feed you?”

“Too much,” Colin sighed. “I’m dead. I’m dying. You’ll have to airlift my body out of here with the rest of the cake, and dress up my cake-stuffed corpse for our wedding.”

“I’ll have them serve pandan cake at our wedding, too,” Araminta replied, mischievous. “It’ll be in memory of your noble sacrifice.”

Colin snorted.

“Sounds about right.”

He paused, thinking.

“Minty, wait. I have the best idea. I can blackmail Nick into coming to our wedding and being my best man because of this.”

Araminta laughed again.

“Please do. We need him to suffer with us. But, Colin, tell me about the girl. It _is_ all for a girl, isn’t it?”

Colin scoffed, glancing towards Nick’s closed bedroom door and lowering his voice before continuing.

“Of course it is. He’s just a romantic idiot. Wants to give this _Rachel_ the best, most special birthday present of all time.”

Araminta made a thoughtful noise.

“Rachel. Sounds like a good name. A good woman. Nick’s really fallen hard this time, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” Colin agreed. “But he’s happy here, Minty. Happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

Araminta was silent for a moment.

“You should help him,” she said finally. “Help him make this perfect. You know how he can be. Make this the magical moment he wants it to be, for the both of them. Because he _should_ be happy, even if he’s been gone for so long, even if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Colin sighed, then smiled.

“Of course. He’s going to need all the help he can get.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Colin woke up to find Nick at the kitchen table, poring over his laptop, at least a dozen tabs open on pandan cake recipes, all in Malay.

“Mate,” he said without preamble, swiping the laptop and replacing it with a steaming mug of coffee before Nick could react. “You look terrible. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“And also,” he continued over Nick’s protests, squinting at the computer screen, “how the hell can you read any of this?”

“Someone didn’t pay attention in school,” Nick muttered, stirring his coffee with a (thankfully) clean spoon before taking a big gulp. Colin glanced up, raising an eyebrow.

“Funny, I don’t remember posh-as-hell _ACS_ teaching us Malay. Or anything other than the most _perfect_ British English. With some Chinese lessons thrown in there.”

“Shut up,” Nick said, taking another gulp of coffee. “I meant figuratively.”

Colin raised his other eyebrow. Despite being the one who had been on a plane recently, and _should_ have jetlag and thus an excuse to be tired and grumpy, _Nick_ seemed more tired than Colin felt.

“You really _did_ stay up all night worrying, didn’t you?” He asked, shoving his own cup of coffee towards Nick, who had emptied his own. Nick took it with a nod, and rapidly began draining that cup as well.

“You are going to be _buzzed_ ,” Colin murmured, shaking his head. Araminta had been right. Nick really _did_ need his help. Desperately. Though he didn’t quite realize it yet.

Colin smirked at Nick as Nick lowered the second mug. It was empty.

“Are you sure you don’t want the whole pot?” He asked, but Nick ignored him, taking his laptop back and resuming his perusal of the recipes.

“Do you want me to sub for you today?” Colin continued, still smirking. “I’m sure my degree in _Philosophy_ will be at the very least, entertaining for your poor history majors.”

Nick was silent. Still ignoring him, apparently. Colin had promised Araminta he’d help Nick, and he _would_ , but he wanted to have a little more fun first.

“Shall I pretend to be Nick Young today?” He asked, drawing himself up and putting on the poshest, worst impression of Nick he could think of.

“Hel _-lo_ , my name is Nick Young and you must be the _ravishing_ Rachel. The love of my life. The one and only for me, why _no,_ I don’t know anyone named _Mandy_ \--”

“Colin,” Nick said through gritted teeth, “please shut up.”

_Oops._ He’d taken it too far. Colin sighed, kicking himself internally. This was yet another reason why Araminta should’ve come with him.

After a long, awkward silence, Nick pushed his chair back, snapped his laptop shut, and left without another word.

Colin stared after his friend’s retreating back. He’d really fucked up, hadn’t he?

 

* * *

 

“You really fucked up, didn’t you?” Araminta said over the phone later, her tone wry.

Colin sighed.

“In my defense, I really thought he got more sleep than I did last night. Before he chugged all the coffee.”

Araminta sighed.

“But you kept teasing him, didn’t you?”

Colin swallowed.

“A little.”

There was a silence. Clearly, Araminta was waiting for a more detailed answer.

“I might’ve mentioned Mandy,” he said at last.

“Yes, I know, I’m stupid, I’m the worst,” he continued quickly before Araminta could say a word. “But honestly, if he keeps going like this, he’s going to run himself into the ground. Literally.”

“Then do something about it,” Araminta replied. “You said he’s only fixating on the cake, right? That’s not much of a birthday party, is it? Get off your lazy ass, Colin, and go make sure everything else is perfect.”

Colin smiled to himself. That was Araminta, all right. Not getting hung up on the details and simply moving forward, moving him along.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Shut up,” she said, but he could tell she was smiling, too.

 

* * *

 

The first order of business was an apology. However, Nick probably wasn’t coming back to the apartment until late, so that order of business was marked as _important_ , and filed away until later.

Secondly, however, Colin needed to find this _Sylvia_. And Nick being gone was rather convenient for finding her. Not that it made it any easier, given he didn’t even know her last name. Though she was probably a professor, too. Though that then meant finding her meant venturing out and possibly running into Nick, who was probably still mad at him. Though _that_ meant that he could apologize to Nick. Or something.

It didn’t really matter. He’d find that Sylvia somehow. He _had_ to. And they _had_ to work out something magical for Nick and Rachel. All before the fateful day, _Friday_.

Colin sighed. _This,_ he thought, _is going to take_ quite _the effort._

  
Though it’d be worth it in the end. _If_ it worked.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Nick was having _quite_ a day. Meaning, of course, he was having a terrible day. It had all started with Colin, though he didn’t blame his friend-- Colin was just a _lot_ early in the morning. No, the day had just gotten worse from then onwards. He’d made a quick stop at the Asian grocery store before heading to NYU, only to find that all the pandan leaves they’d been selling were gone. He didn’t normally swear, but _shit._ And he’d been planning to test more cakes tonight, this time, with Sylvia, because Colin, was being well, _Colin_. Especially _Colin_ today.

What’s more, the stop at the store had made him late to the bakery, and of course, _they’d_ been out of his and Rachel’s favorite pastries, and then. Well. There’d been a rather obnoxious heckler in his first lecture. And then Rachel had been too busy to eat lunch together (which, in all honesty, wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ thing, he was too stressed to face her properly, but it was a little sad). And then, Sylvia had called to tell him she was busy.

And then, he’d arrived home, to find that Colin had gone out (which, in all honesty, was also, not necessarily a _bad_ thing, but somehow he felt it meant another headache was on its way).

Nick sank down onto the couch, exhaling slowly.

Right. He’d _plan_ recipes today, make them tomorrow, and get up extra early, so the pastries wouldn’t be sold out, and then, guaranteed he perfected the cake tomorrow, he’d have time to move onto decorations and other food and, _Christ_ , location, on Wednesday-- would he have to make a reservation at a restaurant?

He pulled out his phone, ready to Google the best Chinese food in the area (of course he and Rachel had their favorites, but he wanted to treat her, it was her _birthday_ ) when the screen flashed.

_Incoming call: Minty._

“Araminta?” He asked, passing a hand over his eyes. “This is kind of a bad time. I still have all this planning to do, and _Christ,_ Colin, I need to kick Colin out at some point, too and--”

“Nick,” she said, voice firm, but not unkind, “you need to calm down. You’re worrying me-- worrying us.”

“I--” he began, but she cut him off again.

“Breathe, Nicky. It’ll be alright, I promise. And Rachel will love it, no matter what you do. Really. You love her, don’t you? And she loves you. And when you’re in love, you want the person you love to be happy. That’s what matters. Not perfecting some cake.”

She snorted a little.

“I mean, no offense, Nicky, but that’s a little extreme, even for you.”

Nick finally cracked a smile.

“I guess you’re right,” he said after a long moment. “But it’s just, _Rachel._ I don’t-- I don’t want to let her down. Not now. Not ever.”

“I get it, Nicky,” Araminta said softly. “That’s how I feel about Colin. And I’m sure that’s how Rachel feels about you. So just, take a deep breath, and step back a little, and make her something from your heart. If it’s genuinely _you_ and what you want to show her, then she can’t not love it.”

Nick was silent again, and Araminta wondered if she’d been talking _at_ him, if she should just scrap the entire plan and let Nick duke Colin or something to vent his feelings. Heavens knew how many times she’d felt like doing the same.

“Nick,” she began again, more hesitantly, “we just want you both to be happy. And for you to not stress so much over this, alright?”

“Alright,” he said quietly, and it was like a weight coming off his chest; all the pressure to somehow _impress_ Rachel vanishing, at least for now, with Araminita’s reassurances in his ear.

“Thank you,” he said after another moment, and Araminta smiled again, though he couldn’t see it.

“What are friends for?”

 

* * *

 

Somewhere, across the city, Sylvia Wong-Swartz was asking the same question of a reluctant Rachel, who she’d dragged away from grading papers to search for the “perfect birthday date dress.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rachel had told Sylvia when she’d first brought up the concept. “Nick and I are laid-back people. I’m sure he won’t make a big deal out of this.”

That was when Sylvia had told her about spotting Nick and his ridiculous load of groceries. And, Rachel hated to admit it, but her heart had leapt a little in anticipation on hearing about it all. After all, Nick planning some great surprise for her birthday was, to say the very least, _romantic_ in every sense of the term, even if she’d been all for having a very low-key birthday less than a week ago.

“ _Rache,_ ” Sylvia said, sounding as if she’d had to repeat herself and snapping Rachel out of her thoughts. “There’s no point in me taking you out with me if you just stand there staring off into the distance.”

“If by _taking me out with you_ you mean forcing me away from grading,” Rachel replied drily, “then, I agree. There isn’t any point in this at all. Like I said before, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this whole thing, and I’m sure Nick won’t either.”

Sylvia pouted, pausing in her perusal of the clothing racks to give Rachel a searching look.

“Are you sure?” She asked. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, but think of this as a _pre-_ birthday present. Trust me, you’ll thank me for this later.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, finally making her way over to where her friend was leafing through rows of dresses.

“And how do you know all this?” She asked her friend suspiciously. “If you’re planning some surprise party, you might as well just tell me now.”

Sylvia grinned mischievously.

“A little bird might’ve told me something or another.”

 

* * *

 

Said bird was currently dying. Or at least, Colin felt like he was. Though that was what tended to happen when someone currently engaged tried to plan a birthday surprise for their best friend’s girlfriend without ever having met the girlfriend, and only her too-eager, too-optimistic friend, who he’d met purely by coincidence: they had been in line at the same coffee shop, and Colin had happened to hear her name was Sylvia. _“No way,”_ he’d said. _“You’re_ the _Sylvia?”_

In his defense, she was a lot shorter than he’d imagined. And looked nothing like Sylvia Plath. Or even an Asian version of Sylvia Plath.

He’d been very lucky, he supposed, that she hadn’t ignored him. Or decked him. Instead she’d picked up her order, squinting at him with no shortage of suspicion, before abruptly announcing:

“I’m already married. I hope you know that.”

A second later, her expression had cleared.

“Oh, wait, _shit_ , my bad. Are you a friend of Nick’s?”

“His _best_ friend,” Colin had replied, smirking a little at the expression on her face. “And, don’t worry, I’m engaged.”

Two coffees, a pinch to Colin’s arm, and a long discussion later, Sylvia had become fully up-to-date on the “Rachel-Nick Birthday Situation.” Or so she had dubbed it.

“Nick’s a romantic,” Sylvia had been saying, and Colin had nodded. He'd felt like he’d been doing that a lot in the conversation, because, really, he’d never admit, but he and Araminta both knew that he was absolute _shit_ at romantic gestures. Well, maybe not _absolute_ shit. He just needed some guidance. Hence why he’d sought out Sylvia to better help Nick. Though even with her, they hadn’t really been getting anywhere.

“Mr. Colin-I’m-Nick’s-Best-Friend _are you even listening?”_ Sylvia had asked in her best ‘stern professor’ voice, and Colin had started, before smiling sheepishly.

“Maybe,” he'd responded. “On that note, could you repeat what you just said?”

Sylvia had given a long-suffering sigh. Somehow, talking to him gave her more of a headache than talking to Rachel or Nick when they were in a particularly _trying_ mood. Even though, ostensibly, both he and her were working towards a common goal. Because even if he was charming, in the same fashion Nick was, Colin was also undeniably _snarky_. Without trying. And it had started to grate on her nerves. A _lot_.

She'd taken a deep breath and silently counted to ten. _This is for Rachel,_ she'd told herself. _Rachel and Nick. And you can’t just punch Nick’s best friend, no matter how much you want to._

Noticing Colin had still been looking at her with an expectant expression that did nothing to hide the glint of amusement in his eyes, she'd taken another breath, renewing her efforts to calm her nerves. He _was_ waiting for her to snap, wasn’t he? Of all the insufferable--!

Sylvia had managed to smile. She dealt with stuck-up students on a daily basis. She could deal with him.

“As I was saying,” she'd said in her professor voice, “Nick is obviously a romantic. Rachel, on the other hand, denies being _that_ romantic, but secretly she likes it. So what I was thinking, is that Nick asked Rachel out in the middle of Washington Square Park. And if Nick surprises her there, that’d be _seriously_ cute.”

“Right,” Colin had said. “We’ll just have to rent the park for a day, then.”

Sylvia had made a sputtering noise. If she’d still had her coffee, she would have most definitely choked on it.

“You _can’t_ be serious,” she'd said at last, not bothering to hide the irritation and incredulity from her voice. “Please, _for the love of God_ , take this seriously.”

Colin had given her an odd look.

“But I was being serious.”

“As if,” she'd scoffed. “Acting like you’re super rich or something. Do you know how _popular_ that park is? How are you expecting to just monopolize it for a day?”

Colin had opened his mouth, about to tell her that he _was_ , in fact, super rich, or to be exact, _crazy_ rich, and so was Nick, but Nick’s words from the night before  had suddenly come back to him.

_“Rachel doesn’t know about all of this,”_ Nick had said. _“she doesn’t know about my family or anything.”_

That had been one thing Colin knew better than to ruin for his friend. If Nick hadn’t told Rachel about his family yet, there was probably a good reason why. Probably. Or at the very least, Nick would kill him if he spilled everything right now to Sylvia.

“Sorry,” he'd opted for instead, letting sincerity overcome the default sarcasm in his tone. “I don’t know New York very well, so I was just throwing out suggestions.”

She had shrugged.

“S’okay. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that either. It’s just been a _long_ day.”

“I can relate,” Colin had replied, smiling a little.

“But,” he'd continued, before Sylvia could resume her lecturing, “if, somehow, we _could_ rent the park for a day, what else would we do to make it the _perfect_ surprise?”

Sylvia had frowned a little, eyeing him, perhaps to see if he was joking around again. After a moment, she'd smiled back.

“I won’t ask _how_ , but _if_ we rented the park for a day, well, now we’re talking. Seems like you _are_ useful for something after all.”

 

Which was what led him to the current situation he was in. On the phone with _someone-or-another_ from the city’s park service. Trying to convince them that _no,_ he wasn’t some prankster, and _yes_ , he was serious, he wanted to rent out the entire park on Friday, no matter the cost. A process also known as dying.

_It will be worth it_ , he told himself, even as he refrained from sighing. Again.

Too bad he was in America on a secret holiday, and couldn’t very well just casually name-drop and get everything done in a bloody instant. Too bad this insufferably officious _prick_ wouldn’t just take the money he was offering and just do whatever it took to make it happen.

_Americans_. Why on earth were they so concerned with their personal values and morals when they could be doing, _well_ , practically anything else. Such as taking political action or something more _productive_ than bloody arguing with him over the phone over a _park_. Such as taking his money without complaint.

“Sir,” the American was saying, “I’m sorry, but no matter how much you claim to be able to pay, there’s already several reservations in place Friday. We can’t just tell them they can’t hold those events-- and on such short notice, too.”

Weren’t Americans supposed to be materialistic bastards? Colin was never trusting another Hollywood movie ever again.

“Listen,” he said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice, “how much profit are you making off of those events? I’ll double that. Just to have the park completely empty for all of Friday. Hell, not even all of Friday, just the afternoon and evening. Deal?”

“Sir, that just can’t be done. I’m very sorry.”

Colin rolled his eyes, _very_ thankful that it was only a phone conversation and the stupid American couldn’t see _just_ how exasperated he was.

“Can I speak to your superiors?” He asked.

A few dozen phone calls later, including to the mayor of New York himself, to the organizations who were holding events in the park on Friday, and finally, to Araminta, who’d laughed _entirely_ too much after he’d explained the situation, Colin had managed to secure the park for the birthday surprise. After shelling out an exorbitant amount of money.

He sighed. It would be worth it. Definitely. And if it wasn’t, he was expecting Nick to fully reimburse him.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the days leading up to Rachel’s birthday flew by in a flurry of preparations, _more_ cake tasting, and decorating. Nick had barely seen Colin at all since he’d gotten mad at his friend on Monday, aside from a very long, very awkward voicemail his friend had left him Wednesday night at approximately two in the morning, consisting of a very tired sounding Colin apologizing to him for teasing him so much, and for vanishing.

“I’m trying to make it up to you,” Colin had promised, and the message had ended abruptly, leaving Nick to stare at his phone the following morning, wondering what the hell Colin was up to. Not that he particularly wanted to know, until after Rachel’s birthday.

He sighed. Everything was mostly planned. According to Sylvia, at least, who’d given him the idea of making it a simpler thing, and for him to just bring Rachel to the park where they’d had their first date. And the pandan cake was perfected. Probably.

Araminta was right. He should stop worrying. All he could do now was be with Rachel on the day before the grand surprise, and hope everything worked out somehow. And that it was all worth it.

 

* * *

 

On the day of Rachel’s birthday, Nick emerged from his room to find Colin sitting at the kitchen table for what felt like the first time in a _long_ while. A very rumpled looking Colin, but Colin nonetheless.

Before Nick could say a word, even apologize to his friend for staying mad at him for so long, Colin was talking.

“Nick, mate, I really am sorry for joking with you so much that morning. I’m an idiot, alright? But, today isn’t about me. Go be happy. With Rachel. This is your day, you know?”

Nick grinned, before leaning over to give his friend a one-armed hug.

“You _are_ an idiot, Colin. But that’s why we’re friends. I forgive you, alright? I’m sure Minty already gave you an earful, too.”

Colin thumped Nick hard on the back, laughing when Nick glared at him. He held up his hands in defeat.

“Kill me later, alright? I have a flight to catch tomorrow, or Minty will be the one doing the murdering.”

“And,” he added, before Nick could respond, “I think it would be a good idea for you to be at the fountain with Rachel in that one park around eight. Just because.”

He winked, and then was gone, leaving Nick frowning at his half-full cup of coffee. _Colin and Sylvia…they couldn’t have something planned, could they?_

 

The rest of the morning and afternoon went off without a hitch, Rachel looking especially lovely in a red dress. He told her as much when he went to bring her coffee and cookies and to wish her happy birthday.

“Stop it,” she said, swatting his chest playfully, though she was blushing. “Please tell me this is the extent of your birthday surprise.”

“Of course not,” he replied, miming an old-fashioned bow. “My single goal in life is to impress you.”

She laughed, but he proved his point later on in the day, when _her own students_ had broken out into a chorus of _Happy Birthday_.

“Professor Young told a friend to tell us it was your birthday today, and to surprise you!” One student happily told her, several others _aww_ -ing in the background.

Later, when she thanked Nick for it, he’d only pulled her in for a kiss, telling her it was the least she deserved.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, several other small gifts were sent her way, by one means or another, all from Nick, ostensibly for the same reason: _it was the least she deserved._ And, well, he was right: it __was__ her birthday, after all,  Nick wouldn’t let her forget, and it _was_ extremely cute, but all in all, she was slightly worried he was going to do something even more extreme at the end of the day, like _actually proposing to her_ or something crazy like that. (Not that she wouldn’t have _really_ minded. Except it was all a bit sudden.)

She confessed as much to Sylvia during a break, but Sylvia had only scoffed.

“As if,” Sylvia had said, but internally, she was kicking herself. _Why didn’t I suggest that to Nick?_ She thought angrily.

 

When her office hours had finally ended, Nick showed up in the doorway, carrying flowers, balloons, and a big white box, smiling wider than she’d ever seen him smile before.

“Nick!” Rachel exclaimed. “You’re just on time.”

“Of course I am,” he replied. “Happy Birthday, again, Rache.”

He handed her the flowers and balloons, telling her the box was yet another surprise, but “for later,” and together, they made their way to Washington Square Park. It was _empty_ , for once, which surprised them both, and Rachel laughed at Nick’s shocked expression.

“Are you alright?” She asked, teasing. “Didn’t you, y’know, _plan_ all of this?”

“Somewhat,” he replied, mind whirling. _Colin and Sylvia had_ definitely _planned something_. He smiled. He would have to thank the both of them again later. But first--

They both settled onto the grass, Rachel stretching her arms out and sighing as the last light of the sunset washed over her.

“It’s amazing how quiet it is without anyone here,” she commented as Nick lay down next to her, eyes on the pink and gold horizon.

“It really is,” he said.

A peaceful silence fell over them as dusk slowly deepened into night, the twinkling of the stars barely visible through the purplish haze of pollution. The day could’ve ended just there, and it still would have been perfect, in Nick’s opinion, and he thought as much, closing his eyes, his fingers intertwined with Rachel’s.

A second later, his eyes snapped back open, and he sat up, Rachel making a noise of protest.

“What is it?” She asked, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. “Is there some staff meeting that we forgot to go to?”

“No, no, no,” Nick said, laughing, reaching for the white box. “I almost forgot.”

“Your cake,” he explained, flourishing the open box before her. Rachel gasped.

“Is this what you were trying to make all this time? Nick--”

“I didn’t have to,” he broke in with another grin. “But, _Rache_ , of course I had to.”

She sighed, shaking her head, but she was happy beyond words, because _God_ , Nick was just...well. He was _Nick_. There was no other way to describe him, or how much she loved him.

“It’s pandan cake,” he said, handing her a green slice. “A slice of Singapore. Or, my childhood. Because you and your mother have shared so much of your own lives with me.”

_“Nick,”_ she said, and it was all she could manage, she was choking back tears, and quickly took a bite to hide it.

“How is it?” He asked anxiously, after a second of silence had passed.

“It’s perfect,” she murmured, but her eyes were on him, tender and full of more love than she could ever properly express.

 

After they’d finished the pandan cake (“I feel like I’ve eaten an entire cloud!” Rachel exclaimed), Nick took Rachel’s hand and led them under the arch, down the path toward the fountain where it had all began. As the fountain came into view, one by one, the trees around them began to light up, casting a candle-like glow over them both.

And, in front of the fountain, giving them both a crooked grin, was the very same busker from that day. He began to strum his guitar softly with the unmistakable chords of _‘This Must Be the Place_ . _’_

“Nick, you didn’t have to,” Rachel breathed, glancing around at the softly glowing trees with awe, _‘This Must Be the Place’_ drifting through the air on quiet acoustics. Nick blinked at the scene before the two of them for a moment, speechless.

_‘Colin, Sylvia, you idiots,’_ he thought. _‘_ You guys _didn’t have to.’_

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Before she could thank him again, he grinned.

“Actually, as much as I’d like to, I can’t take any of the credit for this. It was all Sylvia, and a friend of mine, Colin.”

Rachel smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“The mysterious Colin. I’d like to meet him someday.”

“You really don’t want to,” Nick replied, pulling her in for another kiss, this time on the lips, long and soft and sweet.

.

.

.

And in that moment, an almost magical light surrounding them, their song winding through the air, everything was perfect, more than perfect.

_It’s like a fairy tale_ , Rachel thought, unable to control her smile, the happy tears in her eyes when they finally pulled apart.

A fairy tale, and he was her prince, not because he was charming, or a gentleman, or had saved her in any way, but because she loved him more than anything, and he her.

 

_A fairy tale, and she was his one and only queen._   _His everything._

 

**Author's Note:**

> yikes this got longer than expected
> 
> i was highkey listening to descendants of the sun osts while writing the ending and god i got rly sappy ~~imso sorry~~
> 
> *- eating pandan cake, or chiffon, is, in the words of the glorious Gemma Chan herself "like eating a cloud. a soft, fluffy, delicious cloud" i think that's all you really need to know about it. also it's GREEN BC PANDAN LEAF  
> **- one word: _pontianak._ it is 200% canon that Colin is scared of pontianaks even as a functioning adult in rpp so obv he'd have some embarrassing story from his childhood about being scared of banana trees, which is supposedly where these ~~urban legends~~ creatures live anyway fyi pontianaks are basically these banana tree demon vampires and they're hecka scary  
>  ***- bc Constance Wu has an adorable pet bunny and who are you and what are you doing here if you dont know that fact
> 
> still populating the cra tag one self-indulgent fic at a time
> 
> ~~feel free to prompt meeeee~~  
>  my laptop has been reunited w me and the creative juices are flowing


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